Defenses
by AryaJune
Summary: Rachel has been a prisoner for so long. She's kept herself safe, kept herself at a distance. Will she be able to hold on much longer?
1. Chapter 1

The sunlight filtered in through the dusty window as Rachel let the warm water run over her skin. She took comfort in the small things most days. Small things like a solar heated shower, or the decency of a female guard being posted while she took said shower.

Sebastian Monroe had been her captor for a very long time; too long to remember anymore. Days had melted into months, which washed into years… there was very little point in counting now. She lived for the dreams she had at night where she could see her children and hold them closely. There in those dreams she could walk on the beach with Ben, coax Danny to take his first steps or watch Charlie blow out the candles on her cake. Waking up was the hardest part of every single day.

She wondered if they were even still alive, convinced that she would never see them again. Monroe came to her every so often, though she hadn't been keeping track of that either. It was always the same thing. He wanted her help. He had tried everything to persuade her. Screaming, begging, threatening, hitting, starving, but he never let them torture her. He never let them kill her. She endured it with cold silence, or the occasional refusal. It wasn't that she wanted to be dead. The spark of hope that barely burned inside of her would never allow her to get to that point. Though she caught herself sometimes, thinking death was better than purgatory.

She jumped when she heard something; looking around the steam-fogged glass she saw nothing. She went back to the water, letting out a ragged sigh. She rinsed the lavender soap from her hair, rubbing her face vigorously. She shut off the water and knelt down to blindly search for her towel she had left with her clothes.

"Looking for this," asked a rough voice from above her somewhere.

Rachel gasped and rubbed the water out of her eyes furiously, covering herself with the other arm. Her vision returned enough to make out the boots of the man in front of her.

"I'm not looking Rachel. I'm holding out the towel. Just stand up," he ordered.

Rachel kept her arms across her body as she rose to her full height, jaw clenched in anger. "Now my showers aren't even private, Bass?"

Sebastian allowed her to pull the towel from his extended hand before turning his back completely, arms raised in mock surrender. "I had a free moment, and I needed to talk with you. I can't help that my schedule isn't as free as your own."

Her laugh echoed off the high ceiling, "You're right. I'm just sitting around doing anything I please all day long. How exceptionally careless of me not to consider your busy tyranny and every changing whim."

He looked at her in the mirror from the corner of his eye. Her back was now to him with the towel wrapped snuggly around her delicate frame. She twisted her hair, ringing out the excess water. Her shoulders and legs still sparkled from the sun's reflection in the beads of moisture she had neglected. He permitted himself a lingering gaze, looking away before she noticed his attention. This was the first time he had ever seen her like this in all of the years she'd been here. He was certain she had some idea of how badly he wanted her. She had built so many walls to keep him from seeing anything she felt. She wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

"Why do you have to be so hostile toward me," he asked earnestly. "I've given you every luxury I allow only to myself or the generals. Yet you act like I've kept you locked up in some god forsaken whole in the ground."

She could hear the edge in his voice, "Bass. I'm still a prisoner. No matter how _well_ you might treat me. So I'm sorry if gratitude isn't my first priority."

His frustration got the better of him as he turned on his heel to face her. He saw a look of surprise cross her face before she returned to her usual cool demeanor. In that flash, he recognized something unmistakable. Her defenses weren't as strong as they had been. The silence between the two of them made the sound of his boots on the tile floor almost deafening. He stopped just inches away from her, never breaking eye contact once.

"I'd like to do something to improve your attitude," he whispered. "Tonight. Have dinner with me."

This was a statement, not a request. She could feel his words against her skin, unsure if her shiver was a response to him or a reaction from standing in nothing but a towel. Her cheeks burned hot as she tried to find something to say. She instinctively bit the edge of her bottom lip, looking down to break his stare.

Yet another sign of vulnerability from her that caused Sebastian to smile. He let the edge of the back of his hand touch her check, causing her to jump a little. He caught her eyes once again, holding her attention.

His voice was almost inaudible, "Please?"

Rachel swallowed hard, and nodded quickly. She looked back down again, saying nothing. She felt the warmth coming off of him, not sure if she should be welcoming it so much.

"I'll see you in the dinning room at seven. Don't be late," he whispered. His boots sounded against the floor once more as he walked away. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and saw the redness in her cheeks was more than noticeable.

"Rachel," Sebastian called from the doorway.

She looked over at him; sure he could hear her heartbeat too.

"You're beautiful."


	2. Chapter 2

Rachel stretched her arms above her head with a book in one hand, trying to work out the stiffness that had set in while she'd been curled up reading. She glanced up at the grandfather clock in the corner of her room as it began to toll quietly. It was six o'clock. She ran a hand through her hair, dropping her book onto the small table next to her chair. The embers in the hearth were still glowing red, but the heat was not enough to keep the chill at bay. Edging off her chair, she knelt down to put a new log on when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," she answered instinctively.

A young, dark-skinned boy walked into the room carrying a small brown paper bundle under one arm. "Ma'am, I was told to bring this to you with instructions that it's for this evening."

He firmly extended the package, looking straight ahead. Rachel smirked at the boy's somber disposition. He was so young—too young to be a Militia soldier. If Danny was still alive, he would probably be about the same age. "Thank you…"

"Corporal Neville, ma'am."

"Well thank you, Corporal." She smiled, taking the parcel from him. He nodded curtly, and strode quickly from the room. Rachel turned the bundle over in her hands, finding where the string tied together. There was a tag attached at the knot.

"_Rachel, I thought you'd like something new to wear tonight. –Bass"_

She felt her stomach tighten intuitively, and the hotness in her cheeks had returned. Her fingers lingered on the tag for a moment before tearing it off and letting it fall to the floor. The knot came undone easily enough, and she laid the package out on the end of her bed. A bit of deep blue satin peeked out from the paper, prompting her breath to catch in her throat.

She folded the wrapping back and lifted the dress up for inspection. It was a modest length, but the back dipped down lower than she would have preferred. She knew Bass must have been planning this for sometime if he just _happened_ to have something like this handy. She glanced back down at the package to see a pair of matching blue heels.

"A lot of trouble for something so ridiculous," she thought to herself. The clock tolled once to signal the half hour. She tossed the dress down onto the bed, groaning in frustration.

She had always wondered about how Sebastian acted toward her. When she turned herself over to the militia, he hardly had spoken two words to her. After Miles assassination attempt and escape, Monroe burst through the door to her room in a terror. She knew she would never forget that look in his eyes. They were red, maybe from crying, maybe from rage. He kept yelling at her, asking where Miles had gone. Screaming for her to tell him what she knew, accusing her of putting him up to the assassination; poisoning them against one another. That was the first day he hit her. Her vision had blurred and she fell to the floor. He left her there with a bloody lip, and stormed out just as loudly as he had arrived.

He came back the next day, early in the morning before most everyone was awake. He hoped she wasn't hurt too badly, but never apologized. He just stood there in silence for so long. She remembered the hurt in his eyes, and the confusion written in every movement of his body. He didn't say anything more about Miles, or the role he thought she played. He remarked about how she was _his_ guest now, and she should expect things to be different.

Monroe knew Miles had been trying to talk her into helping with their cause. He thought it was all about bringing the power back on to help everyone. When he discovered that Sebastian had other plans, he knew he had to be stopped. Miles was always that way; black or white, right or wrong, good or bad. There was never a middle ground. He thought Monroe was too far gone, that reason held no chance of changing his mind.

Rachel still didn't know if that was true.

Monroe leaned against the map table, pointing out several positions to the men gathered around him. "I want to secure each of these locations, and blow up any other means of crossing this river. Bridges, Ferries, whatever the rebels come up with. We need to control the only cross points. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," they answered in unison.

The small clock on his desk chimed once, catching Monroe's attention. "Gentlemen, that will be all. You're dismissed."

He strode from the room ahead of them, nodding to each salute as he passed. He walked down the hall and turned the corner to the right. He was please to find Corporal Nathan Neville waiting outside the door to his room. "Nate, did you deliver the present?"

"Yes, Sir. Along with your instructions."

Monroe extended a grateful handshake, "Wonderful, thank you."

The boy took his hand awkwardly, unsure how this type of reaction fit into militia protocol. "You're…welcome. Sir."

"Well you're dismissed for the night. I won't need a guard outside my room this evening," he ordered.

"Sir," Nate saluted. "Good evening, Sir."

Sebastian unlocked the door to his room, and pushed it closed behind him. There was steam coming from the water in his porcelain tub across the room, and a fresh uniform shirt and pants lay folded neatly in the chair next to it. His mirror stood in the corner, reflecting back a man that could use a bath and a shave. Something played at the edge of his mind, tugging on him like some invisible weight.

"What is there to be nervous about," he asked the man in the mirror. Though, the quickened heartbeat in his chest said otherwise. He bathed and shaved quickly, and dressed in the fresh clothes. Lacing up his boots, he glanced back up into the mirror and paused again.

"Jacket? No jacket, it's too much," he reasoned with his reflection. He couldn't tell what made him more uneasy: dinner with Rachel or the fact she agreed to it. He gave her the chance to say no, and she didn't. Did she want him too? He shook his head to clear the thoughts away, and finished with his boots. He stood up and looked at himself once more before heading toward the door. He stopped halfway there and went back for his jacket.

Monroe sat at the dinner table, fidgeting with the silverware on either side of his plate. He had dismissed everyone else after they brought in the food, and stoked the fire. He had just finished dimming all of the oil lanterns in the room. Tonight had to be perfect and it had to be the two of them alone. Not a general and a prisoner, just two people having a nice night. The turn of the knob and click of the door opening startled him.

He stood up slowly, never taking his eyes off the woman that walked in the door. Her heels sounded too delicate against the floor compared to the usual tromp of boots all day long. The dress fit her perfectly, stopping just at her knee. She had braided her hair to one side, and her smile was reserved. The clock began to chime once again.

"Seven, right on time," she offered quietly.

He didn't care what time it was anymore, "You look fantastic, Rachel."

"It's all you. I mean, this is quite a dress." She looked down at herself, fiddling with the end of her hair.

Sebastian smiled as he walked over to her, "Your beauty has nothing to do with this dress."

He pretended not to notice her blushing again, and gestured toward her seat. She allowed him to pull out the chair, offering a small smile by way of thanks. He poured her a glass of wine, and took the cover off the dish in front of her. "I hope you don't mind the informal dinner, but I didn't feel like we needed anyone to serve us."

"It's a nice change compared to my guard brining it in," Rachel quipped. She closed her eyes briefly, scolding herself for the snarky remark. She felt him kneel down beside her chair, and her heart began to race even faster. He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, and ran his hand down her arm. She looked him in the eye, surprised to find him calm.

"Rachel, can't we just let tonight be whatever it is," he asked genuinely. "Nothing else matters or exists outside of this room. You can say whatever you want; you can be honest with me. But this isn't about the militia, or the past, or anything else. It's just you and me."

She hesitated, searching his eyes to understand what he meant. This was a side of Monroe she hadn't seen before. It terrified her, because she found herself liking it. "Alright… just…us."

He stood up and took his seat across from her, and poured himself a glass of wine. "Here's to honesty and…tonight." Rachel lifted her glass too, and they both sipped.

"I hope the food is alright, I wasn't sure what you liked. But the salmon is fresh," he smiled. "Believe it or not, I actually caught it myself this morning."

Rachel couldn't help but smile at him doubtfully, "Bass, you don't have lie to impress a girl."

"What, I did," he protested. "I like to fish. Have since I was a kid."

"Color me impressed," she conceded. "It looks wonderful." They ate in silence for a few minutes, neither sure what to say. There were a few glances, and when they finally locked eyes again Sebastian couldn't help but laugh.

"So…being honest. I guess, I'll go first," he offered up after refilling both of their glasses. "I was completely surprised that you said yes."

"I was completely surprised you gave me an option," Rachel replied. "It's not how you usually behave toward me."

"Touché, fair enough," He smiled. "Why did you say yes then?"

Rachel took a long drink from her glass, hoping the wine would settle the tightness in the pit of her stomach. She wasn't feeling very hungry either. "I didn't have a reason to say no."

Sebastian shook his head, "I can think of more than a few reasons you might have said no."

Rachel pursed her lips in thought, "Why did you ask?"

It was his turn for another long drink of wine, and avoiding her gaze. He pushed his plate back, setting his napkin on the table. He was just stalling, and she knew it.

"Bass?"

"I asked because I wanted to have dinner with you," he managed feebly.

"No fair. That's a cop out," Rachel argued. He shrugged. "Why did you want to have dinner with me, then?"

He didn't answer, but instead stood up and offered her a hand. She didn't see any option besides taking it. He helped her to her feet and led her just a few steps away toward the open floor in front of the fireplace. She was confused until he pulled her closer to him, and began to dance.

"You asked me to dinner so we could dance," she mused. "Really?"

"No. But it's a good diversionary tactic," he smirked.

His hand felt warm on her exposed back; she hadn't felt the roughness of a man's hands in a long time. She knew she shouldn't want this, and yet couldn't find a single reason at the moment _not_ to want it. When he placed his cheek against hers, she felt a shock run though her entire body.

"Because I want you," he whispered in her ear.

Her eyes fluttered at the sensation of his breath so close to her neck. The warmth spreading through her was nearly unbearable. She pulled back to look at him, to search for a reason to stop this. He didn't stop dancing, but met her stare unwaveringly. His heart was beating in this throat, and he thought he felt her tremble in his arms. Her defenses were gone; she wasn't fighting him or being cold. She was vulnerable, and damnit all he was not going to take advantage of that.

She could feel him pulling away from her, but she didn't want him to stop. There was nothing telling her to stop, and she was done looking.

"Bass, kiss me."


	3. Chapter 3

I just want to say _Thank You_ to everyone for the amazing reviews. I'm so glad you enjoy the story, and I'll keep updating as much as I can. -Arya

* * *

The need behind her request, punctuated with his name—_his_ name—on her lips was more than he could stand. Any reservation he had, disappeared with the brief silence that followed.  
He fiercely captured her mouth with his own, completely blinded by her unrelenting eagerness.  
Her arms wrapped around his neck as her knees gave way. His hands braced her sides, pulling her whole body against him.  
Their lack of balance led them toward the closest wall, his jacket falling to the floor in the process . His arm braced their impact as her fingers tangled in his hair. His hands framed her face as he traced her bottom lip with his tongue. She quietly moaned, hoping to convey her permission. Another jolt of electricity coursed through her, accompanied by one of her legs wrapping instinctively around him. He immediately grabbed her knee, roughly sliding her dress up her thigh as he went. They pulled apart for a moment catching their breath, eyes fixed on each other.

"Rachel," he managed with some effort. "We..."

"Yes," she whispered. Her fingers brushed across her lips, trying to memorize the feeling of his kiss.

"Maybe we should have another drink," he asked hesitantly.

Rachel nodded quickly, straightening her dress. He refilled their glasses and took them from the table. He thought he felt her fingers brush against his hand as she took the glass from him. There was no doubt when she raised the glass unsteadily to her lips.

The crackle of burning wood pierced the silence, providing them with a distraction. "Would you like to go sit by the fire?"

Rachel smiled with another quick nod. Sebastian gestured toward the fireplace, allowing her to go first. He knelt down to retrieve his jacket from the floor before joining her on the rug. He sat with his knees up in front of him and elbows resting comfortably across them. Her legs were tucked to one side and she propped herself up with one arm. He drank from his glass, listening to the sound of his heartbeat in his ears. Rachel stared into the flames, sipping absent-mindedly from her glass.

A few minutes passed, and when he spoke, his voice was hoarse. "Are you cold?"

"A little," she admitted.

He wrapped his jacket around her shoulders, letting his touch linger for just a moment. The oil lamps around the room began to burn out, leaving only the firelight to cast flickering shadows across the walls.

Rachel felt the quiet begin to smother her, and finished her glass of wine for enough courage to break the silence. "Honestly...why didn't you kiss me?"

Sebastian choked on his drink; coughing and sputtering awkwardly. Rachel laughed loudly, glad to not be alone in her awkwardness. "No. I just meant-That came out wrong. Why did you make me ask?"

"I didn't think you wanted me to," he answered truthfully, regaining his composure. He looked down at his boots, not ready to face the rejection her eyes might hold. "Rachel, you can't tell me you haven't known."

"I knew," she replied. "But you always take whatever you want Bass. I was afraid it would be the same with me."

He didn't move and his gaze was now glued to the floor. She swallowed hard, willing her heart to stop catching in her throat. The silence started to pull at them again, but she wouldn't be the one to break this time.

He cleared his throat, "No. Not you... Never you. You were the one line I would never cross, Rachel."

She instinctively pulled his jacket tighter around herself, not knowing what else to do. He turned to her, brushing her hair back over her shoulder. "If you didn't want me—if you _don't_ want me—then I know I can never have you."

"Bass. I didn't mean..." Her words trailed of as she searched the hurt in his eyes.

"You did, but I haven't given you much reason to think anything else," he breathed. He finished his drink andturned to look back toward the fire when he felt her hand on his face.

"I'm sorry."

The words were lost in her kiss; much softer than what they had shared before. He moved even closer to her, sliding a hand around the back of her neck. Her tongue slipped past his lips, searching desperately for his. He happily surrendered to her advance, wrapping an arm around her waist. She slipped his jacket off, letting it fall to the floor with a soft crumble of fabric. He began trailing kisses up her neck, eliciting small sounds of pleasure from her.

"Rachel. I don't want to stop... Ever. But are you sure this is what you want?"

His lips had found hers again, making chivalry nearly impossible. He unwillingly pulled away enough to look into her eyes. She had always hidden her feelings so well, and right now seemed no different. She was an intoxicating mystery to him, and some part of him loved that unknown. Every part of his life, every waking moment was ruled by him and him alone. She was the only part he could not harness. The only part that held him so captive. She would never see which of them was the prisoner.

She kept her lips just barely off of his as she spoke. "Like you said...here, tonight. Just..._us_."

He stood up, extending a hand to help her to her feet, "Come with me."

She allowed herself to be led out of the room, her heart beating faster with each step. The hallway was pitch black and cold; his calloused hand holding her own more tightly as they went. The sound of their steps on the floor echoed in the darkness. Her nerves buzzed with excitement and uncertainty.

They turned a corner and came to a stop; keys turned in a lock. Sebastian pulled her against him again, kissing her roughly once more. Her hands found his shoulders, pushing him through the door behind them. The only light in the room came from another fireplace, even warmer than the one in the dinning room.

The lock to the door clicked again. She felt his hands on her ass, lifting her up against the wall as his lips reluctantly left her own. Her legs wrapped around his hips, causing her dress to ride up dangerously high. He used one hand on the wall for support, and the other moved slowly up her side. His fingers traced along the edge of her cleavage; his touch was like fire. Her breath caught sharply as he kneaded her breast. She captured his mouth again, urging him to continue. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her tightly against him. The wall was gone and only his body was supporting her now. Her nails dug into his shoulders as he laid her back across the bed. He pulled away to look at her one more time, cupping her face in his hand. The light from the fire danced in her eyes. He stood up straight taking a step backwards and ran a hand through his hair.

A look of confusion and fear crossed her face as she stood up too, "What's wrong? What is it?"

"Nothing's wrong. God. No, you're perfect. It's just...Rachel, I want you so badly. But we don't hav—"

She stepped toward him and placed a hand over his mouth, "Stop it. Bass, I want this... I want you."

He watched as she turned away from him, pulling her hair over one shoulder and stepping out of her heels. She glanced back at him with a knowing look. Her look was more invitation than he'd ever needed, and his smirk did more to her than she'd ever admit. The release of a dress unzipping down her back was something Rachel hadn't felt in a lifetime. He placed kisses down her neck and along her shoulder before slipping the straps off.

The dark blue satin pooled on the floor around her ankles softly, but it was still loud enough to mask the last of her defenses collapsing.


	4. Chapter 4

There she was, standing in front of him wearing next to nothing. His hands ran over her shoulders and down her arms, slipping around her waist.

She felt like she was on fire. Every inch of her exposed skin was burning with anticipation. The sensation of his hands against her sides made her shiver, breath catching as he traced her breast with his thumb. She captured his lips in another kiss, turning around to face him. His shirt landed somewhere nearby, boots and pants following quite easily. Rachel felt the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed just before she fell. He stood next to the bed looking down at her with that smirk. For the first time since they had met, she noticed the lines at the edge of his eyes when he smiled.

He laughed quietly, "What is it?"

"Do you remember when I called you a drunk womanizer," Rachel smiled. Propping herself up on one elbow, she grabbed the waist band of his boxers and pulled him down over her.

He braced himself with an arm on either side of her head, still smirking down at her. "I said we both preferred me back then."

His kisses started at her collarbone, trailing slowly down to her breasts. "So you're saying you want me to stop?"

"N—no," she managed. "I'm– I'm saying–mmhm..." His lips had found one of her nipples. "oh...Bass."

His fingers traced along the inside of her thigh, playing with the lace along the edge of her panties. "So you _don't_ want me to stop?"

"Mhmm, mm-mm," she shook her head. There was a sound of fabric tearing. "Bass!"

Her panties were tossed onto the floor, having now been rendered completely useless. The warmth of his fingers made her moan as she pressed against him.

He watched her eyes flutter in satisfaction as he slipped a second finger inside her. She bit her lip to try and hold back another moan, which only made him move faster. Her hips lifted off the bed, thrusting against his movements. He was getting uncomfortably hard, but seeing her completely defenseless was worth it.

Her fingers dug into his back, raking down hard. The pain was nothing compared to the pleasure. Her fingers fumbled with the edge of his boxers as he continued to work mercilessly. She wanted control, and she knew this was the only way to take it back. Her fingers wrapped around him tightly, pulling back up slowly.

"Oh, God. Rachel, fuck," he swore into the blanket beside her head. "You– have– no idea. Mmhm."

She squeezed him tighter, stroking him faster. With her free hand, she pushed his boxers down over his ass, gladly letting him remove them completely.  
She glanced down, taking in the unhindered view of his length. He stopped to watch her, smiling again. Her cheeks burned hot when their eyes met. She was sure his ego would take over, clearly boosted from her surprise.

"What," she quipped. "I—"

"You're amazing," he breathed.

His lips captured her in the most desperate kiss they had shared all night. He pinned her wrists over her head, spreading her legs with his knee. She gasped, moaning against his mouth as he entered her.

"Mmhm. Bass, yes. Oh my god..."  
She could feel her heartbeat through every single inch of her body. Shock had spread through her like wildfire. She wanted him more than she had thought. She was terrified because only one thought penetrated her ecstasy. This was perfection.

He was blinded by the feeling of everything. Her breasts against his chest, her legs wrapped around him, her lips on his–begging him to keep going. She was everything he had wanted for so long, and in this moment—nothing else mattered.  
She was everything.

* * *

Rachel woke to the sound of heavy boots on the hardwood floor outside the door. Sunlight was edging in the room around the dark red curtains. The fire burned low in the hearth, and familiar voices exchanged pleasantries as they passed.

She ran a hand through her hair, remembering everything that happened the night before. The spot in the bed next to her was empty. Hurt and embarrassment settled heavily in her stomach. The knowledge that she was still quite naked made her pull the blankets tight to her chest. She checked the floor next to the bed to find her dress and shoes gone.

"Damnit, Bass."

A chair by the fire caught her eye. A folded pile of her usual clothes was set out neatly with a single white lily laying across them. She wrapped herself in the blankets and crossed to the chair. Clothes, flower, shoes...but no note. She thought it was probably just as well. There was no need to confuse what happened between them more. Notes were for lovers, and they had made it abundantly clear that this was about desire– not love.

The water in the porcelain bath was still warm enough that her embarrassment started to tug at her again. Someone had to have come in to bring the water, someone had seen her in his bed. No different than any of the girls he probably had here any given night. She let the blankets fall to the floor, hoping the water could wash away her thoughts.

She toyed with the flower before leaving it on the chair where her clothes had been set out. Dressed and ready, she opened the door to the room to find one of her usual guards waiting. She swallowed her anger, and forced a polite smile. Several other men hurried by in uniform, talking in hushed and serious tones.

"Corporal, is there something going on," she asked the guard.

"Yes ma'am," the man replied. "Everyone's got orders to get ready quick. Word from the top that we'll be headed to the Georgia border for a big fight. Some will be heading to join Captain Neville, though."

Some new feeling was finding its way inside her. Perhaps disappointment, but she shook her head to push it away. "And General Monroe is gone?"

"Not yet ma'am, but he should be soon."

She shrugged and pushed past the guard. She knew he would follow. Her steps led her back to her own room while she ignored the burning in her throat.

Monroe drained a his glass, and looked back up to the boy. "I understand your hesitation, Nate. I do. But you're one of my best scouts. You've set yourself apart. New name, new attitude. You are your own man now. But Your father is on to something very important to our cause, and he could use your specific set of skills."

The boy nodded in defeat,"Yes sir."

"Good. Now get going."

He watched the boy leave before walking back around his desk. The paper in front of him had a single word at the top, written in his handwriting. He hadn't made it past her name. A smile played on his lips as he remember this morning. Waking her up just seemed wrong somehow. He brushed her hair back and placed a kiss on her cheek before getting out of bed himself. He thought the flower with her clothes was a nice touch. When someone came to deliver a message, she didn't even stir. He gave an order for the bath and that she was not to be disturbed. The message had distracted him so entirely that he had forgotten to even leave a note.

Another knock at his office door made him realize her name was still the only thing on the paper.

"What now," he sighed in irritation.

A dusty-looking Private walked in with a black leather pouch in his hand. "General Monroe, I have a message from Captain Neville."

He took the extended pouch. "Thank you. If you go now, you can catch up with Captain Neville's son. He'll be leaving to join them as well."

"Sir," the private saluted and left.

_"General, Ben Matheson is alive. We should reach him in two weeks. _

_I'll send another messenger when I have him. __– Capt. Neville"_

The one man he needed to be alive, was the one man he wished was already dead. He crossed over to the fireplace and tossed the letter into the flames. He watched it turn to ash with satisfaction before going to the door.

"General Monroe," The guard standing in the hall snapped to attention with a salute.

"Where is Rachel Matheson?"

"Last report said she had gone to her room, sir."

Sebastian pushed past the man without pause.

Rachel laid on her bed, staring at the wall. Her tears hadn't stopped since she shut the door to her room, but at least no one had the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

The tears weren't for him, but they were his fault. She had fought so long to feel nothing at all; put up a wall so impenetrable she thought she was safe. One night tore it all down. He knew that too, and that was the worst part. She had been content with being numb. Last night, she didn't even dream, and the waking was more painful than if she had.

More tears ran down her face, and her anger cut even deeper. The sound of keys turned in the door. She wiped furiously at her eyes. "God damnit."

She sat up to glare at whoever came through the door. Until he stepped inside the room, she thought she could handle this.

His voice was genuine enough to make her sick. "Rachel, why are you crying—what's wrong?"

"You, Sebastian," she yelled. "You are what's wrong. Now _get out._"

He didn't leave, he didn't move. He just stood there with a look of hurt on his face. He swallowed hard and folded his hands behind his back. His expression changed and he walked toward the bed.

"Just leave me alone. You're good at that," Rachel hissed.

He stopped beside her and knelt down. "If I had known it would hurt you to wake up alone, I would have stayed." She rolled her eyes, wiping at them with the edge of her sleeve. His hand touched her cheek, brushing a tear away with his thumb. "Trust me, sleeping next to you was the single best night of my life."

"Yeah, right. I'm not one of your whores Bass. You don't have to sugar coat the morning after for me."

"I'm not," he smirked ruefully. "Because there wouldn't have been a morning after if you were any other girl. I don't care where they sleep, but it's not next to me."

Rachel felt her lip quiver a little as she stared at the blankets on her bed. This was what feeling got her. Shaking, crying...caring what he did. Hating him was much easier. "You're a liar."

His hands were on both sides of her face now, forcing her to look at him. His piercing blue eyes lit up, excited to take her challenge. She should have known better than to fight a soldier. He kissed her harder than she expected, pushing her back onto the bed. Her tears mixed with his kiss only seemed to fuel the fire between them more. She rolled him onto his side, pulling him even closer.

"You didn't even leave a note," she remembered.

"I do have an entire Republic to run," he smirked. He wanted to stay like this. Stay here with her, shut out everything and every_one_ else. "And speaking of that... I should tell you something."


End file.
